


Tasting Stars

by teacuphuman



Series: A Month of Kink! [4]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Champagne, Drunkenness, F/M, M/M, New Year's Eve, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 19:37:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4932676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teacuphuman/pseuds/teacuphuman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames was big, messy, and full of terrible innuendo. He was also hot as fuck. The problem was that Eames knew how hot he was. He also knew that Arthur knew how hot he was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tasting Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Day four of the Month of Kink: Aphrodisiac 
> 
> This turned out fluffier than intended, but sometimes that just happens. Enjoy!

“Come quickly, I’m tasting stars!” -Dom Perignon

 

Arthur was hiding. He’d locked himself in the ensuite bathroom, hoping the others would forget he was there.

It was New Year’s Eve, and after some (a lot) of peer pressure from Ariadne, he’d reluctantly agreed to spend it in a Suite at the Renaissance Times Square. The room itself had been booked by Ari’s new friend, Mal, who, ten minutes after they arrived, disappeared with her boyfriend into the throngs of people lining the streets.

Arthur had zero desire to be out in the crush of people, which is why his plan had been to stay home with Ari, watch The Twilight Zone, and watch the ball drop on tv, like they had for the past three years. 

Unfortunately for him, Ari was determined to broaden his horizons. Whether Arthur liked it, or not. 

Mal and her boyfriend, Dom, he could handle. They were insufferably in love and joined at the hip, but they were interesting people, and Arthur didn’t mind being around them. Even Yusuf was tolerable. He and Ari had been casually seeing each other for a few months, and Arthur was getting used to having him around. 

The one person Arthur could absolutely do without, was Eames. A friend of Mal’s, he seem to lack any purpose other than annoying Arthur. He was big, messy, and full of terrible innuendo. He was also hot as fuck. 

The problem was that Eames knew how hot he was. He also knew that Arthur knew how hot he was. From their first meeting, Eames had laid the smarm on thick. Kissing the back of Arthur’s hand, letting his fingers trail across Arthur’s palm before releasing it, calling him ‘darling’. All of it designed to be charming and appealing. Too bad it was all a gimmick. 

Something rang false in every word Eames spoke to Arthur, and he couldn’t help but feel like the man was taking pity on him. Like somehow he’d been designated to entertain Arthur since everyone else had paired up. Arthur hated it, and, by extension, hated Eames.

So, here he sat. Scrolling through his news feed on the shower bench in a hotel room, that tonight, cost more than his rent. He’d snuck away when the champagne had arrived. Awkward social situations he could tolerate. Champagne, he could not.

A knock startled him and he cursed. He debated ignoring it, but Ari wouldn’t let anything as small as a locked door and a demand for privacy stop her. He opened the door, surprised to see Yusuf on the other side.

He pushed into the room. “Sorry to interrupt ‘antisocial Arthur time’, but I have to piss.” 

“There is another bathroom you know!” Arthur hurried out when he heard Yusuf’s zipper.

“Ari’s in there and I really couldn’t wait.”

Arthur huffed, leaning against the bed.

“Arthur? Are you still out there?” Yusuf called.

“Yes,”

“Listen, mate, I can’t go with you just standing there.”

“I’m not even in the same room as you!” 

“I know, but you’re out there. Waiting. I’m not shy, but he is.”

“He who?” 

“Um,”

“Don’t answer that. I’m going.” He stomped into the sitting area.

Eames was laying on the floor in the middle of the room. He grinned, sitting up, when he saw Arthur. 

“Darling! There you are!” 

Arthur frowned. “Here I am.”

“I was beginning to think you’d flushed yourself away.” Eames put a hand over his heart.

“I’m sure you’d be heartbroken.” He said, dryly.

“I would. You don’t believe me, but I would. May I pour you some champagne?” He gestured with the half empty bottle in his hand. “I find it goes down best if you simply pour it in you mouth. May I pour it in your mouth, Arthur?”

“No, you may not. I don’t drink champagne.” Arthur sat on the couch, willing Yusuf to hurry.

Eames climbed to his feet, shock on his face. “That’s not possible. Everyone drinks champagne.”

“Well, I’m not everyone.”

“No, darling, you are not. You best not let Mal hear you speak against the bubbly, though. She’ll tie you down and drown you in it.”

Arthur shrugged. “It would at least be a memorable way to die.”

“Wouldn’t it just.” Eames stepped over the cubed tables to join him on the couch. “What do you drink then, and I’ll fetch it for you. I insist you have a good time.”

“I don’t need alcohol to have a good time, Eames.” Arthur told him.

“Don’t you? I just assumed, since I’ve never seen you have a good time while sober.”

Before he could respond, Ari came lurching out of the bathroom.

“Arthur!” She screeched, before stumbling over and collapsing on top of them.

“I really hope you washed your hands.” He told her, scowling when she reached up to pat his face.

“Do you want to smell them?” She grinned.

“Gross, no.”

“Ariadne, Arthur doesn’t drink champagne.” Eames complained.

Ari giggled. “I know. He can’t or he gets all hrmph.” Arthur slapped his hand over her mouth.

“He gets all what?” Eames asked eagerly.

“He gets nothing, right Ari?” Arthur glared.

Ari shook her head solemnly and Arthur removed his hand.

“He gets all twinky!” She blurted, erupting into giggles.

“I hate you.” Arthur shoved her off the couch.

“No, you love me. Arthur loves Ari, I know he does.” She laid on the floor, humming.

“What exactly does “all twinky” entail?” Eames asked, leaning close.

“You will never find out, trust me.” Arthur tried to play it cool, picking invisible lint off his pant leg.

“If I’ll never see it in person, what’s the harm in telling me?” Eames scooted closer, pressing his thigh against Arthur’s.

“Oi! Why is my girlfriend on the floor?” Yusuf burst through the door from the bedroom.

“Arthur pushed me. We should punish him by making him drink champagne!” Ari cried.

“Here, here!” Eames shouted, raising his bottle. “‘Twas a vicious assault! String him up and ply him with bubbles!”

“If it was so vicious, why didn’t you stop me?” Arthur raised an eyebrow.

“You move too fast for me, pet.” Eames said, sounding sober and serious. “No matter how hard I try, I’m always three steps behind.”

“Arthur. Arthur, Arthur. Will you dance with me, Arthur?” Ari laid her head on his knee.

He frowned at her, pushing hair away from her face. “How drunk are you, really?”

Ari smiled. “Not that very.”

“That sentence did nothing to reassure me.” He said.

“Oh, Arthur, don’t you want to have fun? I just want you to have fun sometimes.”

“I do have fun.” He protested.

“Let me rephrase. I want you to have fun with other people. There need to be witnesses to your funning.”

“I agree,” Yusuf grabbed Ari by the arm, hauling her up. “Let us bear witness to Arthur’s funning!”

“Do you need me to fun you, darling? Because I take funning very seriously.” Eames leered.

“You’re all terrible people and I hate you. Where’s the champagne?” Arthur pushed away the bottle Eames offered. “I’ll take one I know the contents of, thanks.”

He stepped up to the cart the staff had left and grabbed a chilled bottle. Heat at his back made him pause. Eames’ breath ghosted over his neck, making him shiver.

“I’ll pop it for you, if you can’t manage.”

“Fuck off,” Arthur spat, tearing off the foil and wedging his thumbs under the cork. 

“Careful now.” Eames breathed.  
The cork shot out, hitting the ceiling and bouncing off a lamp. Champagne foam poured out the neck, and over his hand. He turned, laughing. His breath caught at the darkness in Eames’ eyes as he watched Arthur suck the alcohol from his fingers.

Arthur cleared his throat and Eames’ gaze snapped to his. “Care to find me a glass?”

Eames nodded curtly and turned away. Arthur noted with pleasure that the tips of his ears had gone pink.

Three glasses later Arthur can’t remember why he doesn’t always drink champagne. Music is blaring through the suite and Ari is dancing on the desk, with Yusuf standing below, taking pictures and hopefully ready to catch her if she falls. Arthur’s sweater is gone and the top two buttons of his oxford are undone. He’s funning.

Eames sits on the couch, still nursing the same half empty bottle, smiling to himself. 

“What?” Arthur asks, noticing Eames watching him.

Eames just smiles. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re watching me. Why are you always watching me?” Arthur crosses the room to stand over him.

“You’re nice to watch.” Eames shrugs.

“I get it, okay? You don’t have to pretend anymore. I’m not lonely, and I’m not sad. I won’t fall apart if everyone else has someone to talk to. I don’t need your pity.” Arthur’s abruptly angry. He knows Eames doesn’t like him. He knows they all think he doesn’t have anything special in his life, but he does. He has things. So what if they’re not things like their things? They’re his things, and he likes them. It occurs to him that this may be one of the reasons he doesn’t drink champagne.

Eames straightens, confusion on his face, but before he can say anything, the song changes and a new beat pounds out of the speakers.

“Oh! Robyn! This is my jam!” Arthur shouts, bouncing over to Ari.

Arthur’s heart is hammering in his chest, the beat of the music throbbing in his head. His arms are up and his head is thrown back as he jumps and sways to the music. His bottle is almost empty and Ari is laughing in his face.

He remembers being sixteen and sneaking into clubs to dance until their bones ached, grinding against strangers in search of the perfect beat, before trudging back home as the sun came up. 

He remembers the fluidity of his body and how good it feels to have some press up behind him, hands on his hips, dragging him against them. A hand skates across his belly and his head drops back. He looks up at Eames, and for the first time doesn’t want to push him away.

“So this is what ‘all twinky’ means then? Half naked and flailing?” His tone is light, but his gaze weighs on Arthur’s skin.

“It’s called dancing, and I look fantastic doing it.” Arthur shouts over the music.

“You certainly do.” He growls.

Arthur grabs him by that wrist, pulling him into the bedroom and shutting the door.

“Look, I told you you don’t have to do that.” He crosses his arms, noticing his shirt has gone missing.

Eames frowns. “Do what?”

“The flirting thing,” Arthur waves his hands around. “I know you don’t mean it and it just makes things worse.”

Eames sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Arthur, have you ever noticed you spend a lot of time with your head up your arse?”

Arthus gapes, unable to think of a witty retort.

Eames huffs and tries to push past. 

“Wait,” Arthur stops him with a hand on his arm.

“Why? I have been waiting, Arthur, and it’s gotten me nowhere.”

“I didn’t know.” Arthur insists.

“Christ, how could you not? I flirt with you every chance I get, I touch you and you react, I know you do, but you just push me away. I had this stupid, romantic idea about kisses at midnight, but I’m admitting defeat. I just can’t do it anymore. I’ll leave you alone.”

“I know you flirt with me, and I know you touch me, because that’s all you do! Have you ever stopped to actually talk to me? Asked me a question that wasn’t laced with innuendo? How am I supposed to take you seriously when you treat everything like a game?” Arthur’s fingers are digging into Eames’ bicep, making the other man wince.

“I can’t talk to you! You’re too bloody scary!” Eames shouts into the silence between songs. He flushes, ducking his head. 

The next song starts and credits Ariadne with it being louder than the last.

“I’m not scary,” He says softly. “I just don’t really do this.”

“You are terrifying and you know it.” Eames jabs him in the chest, defensive and embarrassed.

Arthur studies him for a minute. Eames has been putting himself out there, whether Arthur realized it or not, and now that he feels he’s been rebuffed, he’s putting up a barrier between them. He thinks about never again being on the receiving end of Eames’ dirty smirk, never seeing his eyes dance after trailing a hand over the small of Arthur’s back. Never hearing the full throated laugh Eames seems to reserve just for him. Arthur decided maybe it’s his turn to be vulnerable.

“Maybe Normal Arthur is terrifying, but I’m Champagne Arthur.” He shakes the bottle between them, the liquid sloshing around and foaming. 

Eames eyes him critically and when Arthur smiles, flashing his dimples, he huffs a laugh. “Twinky Arthur, is it?”

“Hmm,” Arthur steps closer, pressing the bottle between them. “Twinky Arthur likes to dance.”

Eames breath catches when Arthur squeezes his hip with his free hand.

“What else does Twinky Arthur like?” He brushes his fingers down Arthur’s cheek.

“Twinky Arthur likes not waiting until midnight for kisses.”

Arthur barely has the words out before Eames is surging forward and pressing their lips together. The first kiss is wild, and a little frantic. When he realizes Arthur isn’t going anywhere, Eames slows down, taking his time to draw a sigh out of him. He kisses him over and over, licking across Arthur’s bottom lip.

“God, Arthur, you really know how to drive a bloke crazy.” Eames nips at his jaw.

“That’s Normal Arthur for you. Twinky Arthur is much more direct.”

“Is he now?” Eames laughs.

“Mmm, Twinky Arthur isn’t afraid to ask you to get on your knees.” 

Eames moans into his mouth before dropping to the floor and clawing at Arthur’s jeans.

“Whoa, I was kind of kidding.” He says, helping Eames open his pants.

“Are you taking it back?” Eames asks, getting his hand on him and stroking from root to tip.

“God, no.” Arthur’s head falls back and when Eames swallows him down he drops the champagne bottle. It spills onto the carpet, soaking into his sock. He distantly wonders about damage charges, but Eames drags his teeth lightly over the head of his cock, and he shouts, coming hard.

Eames makes a shocked, but pleased noise, sucking until the last pulse. He pulls off, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before surging to his feet and backing Arthur against the wall.

“That was so hot.” He presses hard kisses along Arthur’s neck, his erection rubbing against his hip.

“I’d like to point out that Normal Arthur isn’t usually on a hair trigger.” He croaks and Eames laughs, biting at his clavicle.

“I’ll take it as a compliment.” Eames gasps.

“Here, God, I need to touch you.” Arthur pushes him back a little, getting his jeans open just enough to free Eames’ cock.

Eames keens when Arthur twists his wrist, thrusting forward. He’s leaning into him, letting Arthur take his weight while he mouths at Arthur’s bare shoulder.

“Darling,” Eames chokes out, spilling over Arthur’s hand.

They stay there, panting, until Arthur’s wrist starts to cramp from being trapped between them at an odd angle.

“I’m just going to wash my hand.” He says.

Eames pulls him into a tight hug, tucking his chin over Arthur’s shoulder.

“Which Arthur is going to come out of that bathroom?” He asks, sounding nervous.

Arthur pulls back to rub the pad of his thumb over Eames’ bottom lip.

“Doesn’t matter. They both think this was a really good idea.”

Eames beams at him, stealing a kiss before letting him go.

When midnight comes, Arthur and Eames are standing with the others on the balcony, heralding in the new year with cheers and kisses.


End file.
